West on 1-94

Late Thursday night I began my drive west on 1-94 for a long weekend in Moorhead. I knew this drive. I'd even say that I mastered this drive. I knew the not so secret hide-outs of the highway patrol, and I knew where I could find the best prices on gas. I knew Exit 178 was where I would find Fritter Bread and donuts the size of your head, and I knew Exit 103 was a Fleet Farm Gas station. One semester I found myself doing this drive at least once a week. So when I began heading West late Thursday night, this all seemed normal.

But the reality is, this is all rather bizarre.

You see, I left that life that I only knew how to get to by heading west on 1-94. I left it because I was lonely and frustrated. I left that life because I needed the city. I left that life because I was called to something else. And here I was, on my last 'free' weekend of the year, returning back to a place that I like to pretend is very much in my past. This was not normal.

I thought that I could forget this route, because like I said, this was my past. This was a place I experienced by myself, alone, and almost in a mode of survival. And now I was returning, and by choice. I counted down the weeks, the days and then even the minutes until I could go to Moorhead. And as the days got closer, I made a list of things I wanted to see and do -- margaritas at Zorbaz, shopping at Scheel's and sitting on the beach while pretending it was the ocean.

But this time, I was not experiencing this all on my own.

You see, one of my best friends now calls this place on earth home. From Ohio to Washington D.C. to Philadelphia to Boston to Moorhead, Minnesota. This place I once knew, is the place she now lives.

You see, the reality is, this is all rather bizarre.

Chris and Mike, the Vicar and the Sexton, have recently moved to Moorhead. They married about two months ago and are now learning life in Moorhead. Chris is a first-call pastor in a large Lutheran Church and Mike is a graduate student in creative writing. This place that was once my past, is once again the present.

As we experienced all these things together, I kept thinking how bizarre this all is. It was common for me to spend a day-off wondering around Fargo-Moorhead, and here I was doing that once again, but not alone. I was in the embrace of people that are active parts of my changing, ridiculous and bizarre story, which is a good, good thing.

As I headed down 1-94 for my home in St. Paul, I found myself reflecting on this intersection of the past and present. And it was good.

It has been in the last year that I have begun to identify with these feelings of community and embrace that have been part of my writing palette. And sometimes it makes me take a step back and say, yes!, I'm in the midst of this all.

Here is a glimpse into my weekend filled with Chris' instillation, Zorbaz, Dutch Blitz and Yuengling: